Parle Avec la Lune
by CashewLuu
Summary: Everybody thinks I'm crazy, but they don't understand. You were all I had.


**Heeey guys~ **

**So this another AU story, and contains of my my most favorite pairings ever, FrUK, and is based on one of the best songs in the universe, Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars. You should listen to it, it's pretty awesome. Anyways, I'm trying my best to work on Healing Pains and One Day We'll Know, but school is a bitch (I think everyone out there knows what I mean). Also, remember what I said about not seeming to have reviews as much as I once did? I found out that all the emails sent me went straight to spam, which is where I found A LOT of alerts. So thank you guys!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

_

* * *

It was really cold. Really, really cold, and the rain didn't help in the least. It made Arthur want to cringe, wishing for warm arms to embrace him and whisper into his ear, "Are you cold, mon petit lapin?" and make his ears tickle from the slight breeze. He wished._

_ But those arms he longed to wrap around his shoulders were folded together over a once strong chest that no longer rose and fell with every breath. Over a body that would never move again, a cadaver that now rested in peace in a cold casket of wood._

_ Slowly, the emotionless pallbearers lowered the humble coffin that held Arthur's beloved into the ground. Lower, and lower, and lower, and lower, until the dark brown dirt swallowed the precious container into a never-ending black hole deeper and deeper within…_

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"Gah!"

The startled Brit plopped out of the low raised bed and onto the cold, hardwood floor, barely cushioned by the blankets he pulled out along with him.

"Dammit, you fucking…"

Ruefully rubbing his back, Arthur got up and lifted the blankets back on to the bed. Stretching out his tired limbs, the emerald eyed man yawned, small beads of tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Arthur smacked his lips, staring at the messed up bed while rubbing away the sand in his brilliant green eyes and scratching at his stomach for a moment. Suddenly, the thick eye-browed man halted all of his movements, slowly lowering his hands and simply concentrating on the bed.

Something was seriously wrong. He wasn't woken up to large, soft hands chiding him from slumber. He wasn't greeted with the lovely aroma of coffee being made or freshly baked bread hot from the oven. He didn't see blue eyes staring back at him when he finally got up and tried to glare at the he who dared wake him up.

Right. He wasn't here. He was somewhere else, somewhere far away.

But that didn't stop Arthur from wanting him back.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Arthur, it's me," a voice replied, so soft it was almost a whisper.

"Who…?"

"It's Matthew, damn it! I'm your cousin, remember me?" the now-not-so-mysterious voice suddenly roared back angrily.

"Oh! So sorry, Matthew, I forgot you for a moment there…" Arthur replied apologetically and tactfully not adding that this was the fifth time this month, wringing the telephone wire between his thin fingers. He could hear a tired sigh being exhaled from the other end. "Anyways, why are you calling?" the Brit continued.

"I was just wondering if you were doing alright. Al is worrying a bit about you, too. Would you like for us to bring over some breakfast over? We're having pancakes."

"I'm fine, Matthew, I can cook, you know," Arthur said, pausing a while before adding, "Don't say a word. Besides, if you're going to bring Alfred along, he'll probably bring those abominable hamburgers with him as well."

"Eh, I have to admit you're right on that one," Matthew agreed. "But don't be afraid to call us if you'd like some help. You know Alfred and I are happy visit you and help in anyway we can."

"Thank you, Matthew, yes, I will if I need any. Goodbye," Arthur murmured into the receiver.

"Yeah, see you sometime, Arthur. Be safe, eh?" Matthew said before hanging up.

Arthur sighed before putting the receiver down as well. The blonde stared at the phone for a moment before taking a quick glance at the clock. His eyes widened.

Shit, he was late for work!

* * *

"I-I'm sorry for coming so late, Mr. Zwingli…"

The irate Swiss in question glowered at Arthur with a piercing, burning gaze that, quite frankly, terrified the man.

"Mr. Kirkland, I am very disappointed in you. You're usually my model employee," Vash Zwingli, the head of Arthur's branch, said as he folded his hands. "But I will excuse you. I heard about what happened… to your, uh, significant other."

Arthur flinched as he heard the last part. His hands were tightened into fists, blinking in order to keep tears at bay.

"Next time please come to work on time," Vash finished. "You are excused."

"Yes sir," Arthur mumbled as he numbly bowed for a moment. The Brit turned swiftly, and walked over to the door and turned the doorknob slowly, pausing only for a moment to wipe his face with the palm of his hand the best he could.

The tears streamed down his face in hot, scalding streaks.

* * *

"Arthur! Are you up for a drink?" Tino called. "Everyone's going to the bar, wanna join?"

Work had finally ended and to add onto that, it was Friday. In other words, time to get smashed at the local bar. Often, Arthur joined his fellow co-workers at the chance of drinking some booze, but tonight he had to go somewhere very important.

"Sorry, old chap," Arthur said apologetically, "Need to go to the hospital."

"Oh! I'm sorry Arthur, I almost forgot!" the Finn exclaimed, covering his mouth and blushing. "I-I hope he gets better…"

"Don't worry, they say his condition isn't worsening so at least there's that," Arthur replied, brushing away the pang in his chest. The sandy haired man got up and brushed his clothes off. "Well, I'll be leaving now, see you later, Tino."

"Yeah, you too. Maybe you can join us after he's out of the hospital, hm?"

Arthur nodded weakly before taking off for the elevator.

* * *

"Hey, Arty, are you almost here yet?"

"Alfred, my name is Arthur not Arty. Please, if you're going to say it in that horrible grammar you have, at least spare my name."

"C'mon, Art, chill out! Just come soon, 'kay? Or else Mattie and I are gonna leave without you!" Alfred warned lightly.

Arthur cringed at the terrible use of English that Alfred had just uttered from his lips. Ugh! He didn't know how Matthew could stand to be roommates/brothers with this person.

"Alright, alright. Just be a bit more patient, the bus is almost at the stop. I'll see you later."

"Fine, see ya too."

An angry pulse throbbed at Arthur's temple at that final insult to the English language. However, a terse click alerted the Brit that Alfred had hung up, and all he could do was angrily jam his cell phone into his workbag.

"Stop 20!" the bus driver yelled, braking hard enough to almost send a few passengers flying forward.

Arthur stood up to leave the bus and quickly exited through the doors. At the bus stop, a tall, blonde man with glasses stood, looking around as if waiting for someone.

"Alfred, I'm here," Arthur announced.

"Hm?" the blonde asked, turning to the green-eyed English man. As soon as he saw Arthur though, his bright blue eyes brightened considerably.

"Hey, Arty!" Alfred shouted loudly, grabbing and hugging his cousin tightly.

"I told you not to call me that!" Arthur snapped angrily, fighting from Alfred's grasp.

Acting as if Arthur hadn't said anything, Alfred then proceeded to grab his shorter cousin's hand and dragged him across the stop.

'"Mattie's waiting for us in the car. Hurry up, the hospital visiting hours aren't that long you know."

Arthur grumbled but knew he had to speed things up if he was going to go visit anyone in the hospital… which he was…

"Hey, Mattie, Arthur came!"

"Oh, hi, Arthur. Here, sit over in the passenger seat in the front…" the shy Canadian said, immediately getting up from his spot and moving to the back seats via past the glovebox.

"No, no! Matthew, I'm perfectly fine in the back. Besides, I shouldn't be intruding on you two especially when both of you don't even have to do this!" Arthur said quickly, motioning for the curly haired blonde to sit back down.

Matthew cracked a smile but replied kindly, "Arthur, your car got smashed to bits after the accident, and Alfred and I are more than happy to help you."

"Th-thank you…"

"Okay! Enough chit chat, Let's get this baby on the road!" Alfred suddenly shouted loudly, unceremoniously picking up his British cousin up and heaving him into the back before going to the driver's seat and plopping himself in.

"What in the-" Arthur began as he picked himself up, but found his face smashed against the backrest of the seats when Alfred accelerated at a ridiculous speed.

"A-al, slow down a little bit," Matthew pleaded, tugging slightly on his brother's bomber jacket. "You're going too fast, for both me and Arthur."

"No way, Mattie! You and the old man are just too slow!" the proud American exclaimed cheerfully, the little stick at the speedometer slowly rising ominously. "You know that- WOAH!"

Arthur had just recovered from his near suffocation at the back seats when the car veered sharply to the left, sending him flying to the right, hitting his head onto the door with a loud bang.

"AL!" Matthew all but screamed after the shock was gone. Quickly, he turned and apologized in rapid English, and accidentally mixing French in the process, to Arthur, who was at the moment rubbing his head ruefully and clicking on his seatbelt.

"I'm so sorry !Desolee, Arthur! Are you okay, eh?"

"Yes, perfectly fine," Arthur mumbled, quickly shutting his mouth as the sickening speed of the car continued.

When the death ride finally ended into the hospital (which was parked in a parallel parking that probably broke every law of physics available), Arthur stepped out of the car on wobbly legs while trying his best not to fall on the ground in an ungraceful heap. He was a gentleman after all!

"Al, you are so dead," Matthew deadpanned as Arthur shut the door. Quickly, the quieter of the two brothers opened the window and called out to his cousin, "Al and I'll meet you at the hospital soon!"

Arthur nodded and called back, "Thank you, Matthew!" before pausing and reluctantly adding, "And you too, Alfred!"

Alfred was about to yell out a "You're welcome" when the presence of an ominous aura began to surround him mysteriously.

Slowly, the normally loud American turned to meet his slightly younger brother's face.

"Al…" Matthew said quietly, the aura seeming to surround mostly around the (usually) calmer of the two brothers.

Arthur was inside the hospital by then and couldn't hear the screams that came from a certain car in the parking lot.

* * *

"Oh, Mr. Kirkland!" the receptionist said cheerfully.

"Yes, hello, Belle," Arthur replied hurriedly. "You know what I'm here for, right?"

"Of course!" the Belgian lady beamed, handing Arthur a pen and a clipboard, "You remember the room, right?"

Arthur paused for a moment, racking his brains at top speed to find that magical number… to no avail.

"No, sorry love, but could you remind me again?"

Belle smiled once again and mouthed, "five fifty two," with a coy wink.

Cheeks flushing from the mishap, Arthur messily scrawled down the room number and his signature. Slapping the pen onto the counter, Arthur dashed to the elevators, managing a rushed "goodbye" somewhere in between.

"Bye to you too," Belle yelled back, waving wildly.

Arthur turned around to wave and be polite, when he crashed into the actual elevator door with a loud KWANG! It would have been ridiculous if it hadn't been for the fact that Arthur was so desperate. Like a scrapped piece of paper, the Brit fluttered to the floor.

Shakily, he picked himself up and hobbled over to the elevator button, and punched it. The button lit up too cheerfully and almost automatically the doors opened.

Arthur turned back to Belle and gave a weak wave, the latter handing back a sympathetic smile as well as a small wave too. The Brit then hurried into the elevator before the doors could close on him.

Eventually, the throbbing in Arthur's head dimmed, and as soon as the elevator alerted that it had arrived at the fifth floor, Arthur practically jumped out. He quickly scanned the room numbers until he reached his destination. Room five fifty two.

Arthur took in deep breaths from his rush to get here, and then gripped the door handle firmly before turning it.

"Francis!" Arthur cried, lunging in, "I'm so sorry I was late I-"

"Oh, Mr. Kirkland, how nice to see you."

Arthur gasped and blushed as he realized that the doctor was there. Immediately, he stiffened and bowed in apology.

"I'm so sorry sir," Arthur began, "I didn't realize that you were…"

The kind doctor smiled and shook his head.

"There's nothing to worry about, Mr. Kirkland. You're here to see Mr. Bonnefoy, I presume?"

Arthur nodded.

"Go on ahead, he's not going anywhere," the doctor said, laughing humorlessly at the last comment. "Will you need any help with anything?"

"No, no, I'm just here to talk with Francis," Arthur replied.

The doctor hummed slightly before tapping his bottom lip lightly.

"Well, do whatever you like, but you do understand that he cannot hear you at the moment, right?"

Arthur gave a tight-lipped smile before nodding curtly.

The doctor nodded back in return as well and turned around before leaving the hospital room, closing the door shut

As soon as the Brit was sure that the doctor was gone, Arthur rushed over to the figure laying peacefully in bed.

"Hello again, Francis…"

The beeps of the machine were his only reply from the Frenchman.

"Sorry again, for being late," Arthur continued, grabbing a seat near to the hospital bed and sitting down in it. "Work was tiring, as usual, and then the bus over here was late as well, not to mention Alfred nearly killed Matthew and me while driving."

Arthur sat in silence for a few moments, staring at Francis for a few moments.

The blonde looked so fragile, an oxygen mask covering his face and the numerous wires and tubes that extended from various parts of his body and hooked to large and clunky machines. His face was becoming stubblier slowly, and his wavy, slightly long hair spread across his pillow like a golden halo around his head. However, his skin, which used to be such a healthy peachy color, was now white as a sheet. Perhaps it was the fluorescent light fixtures, or just the fact that Francis had been in a coma for nearly four weeks.

Arthur longed to hold his beloved's hand, but knew he couldn't. Instead, he chose to look at Francis's face.

He remembered that face taunting him during their petty arguments, giving snide remarks and comebacks. Arthur remembered that face hovering above him during those heated nights of raw passion and love. He remembered that face comforting him while repeatedly telling him that the scones were fine… just a bit… er… too well done.

He even remembered that face just before the accident.

_"Francis, you git, it's the middle of the night, and you're still outside with your friends?" Arthur cried indignantly into the phone, "When are you coming home?"_

_ "Ma cherie, it's alright," the (endearingly) annoying voice laughed happily, "I'm not drunk, and Gilbert and Antonio are getting into the car right now. They're pretty bad, and I'll drive them home before I go home, is that fine?"_

_ Arthur sighed but agreed reluctantly. The two shared a kiss (well, as much as they could when being at least ten miles apart), and hung up._

_ Then he had to pick the phone up once again, for the most devastating news of his life._

_ "Is this Mr. Kirkland?" a gruff voice asked._

_ "Y-yes... and you are?"_

_ "I'm officer Ludwig Beillschmidt. I'm calling due to an accident here on the freeway."_

_ "Yes…"_

_ "Do you know a Francis Bonnefoy?"_

_ The world began to move in slow motion, and Arthur couldn't breathe._

_ "Wh-what, no, Francis…. Is he dead?"_

_ "He's in critical condition, but no, he is not dead," the officer on the phone informed Arthur, who immediately let out a breath of relief. _

_ "However, the paramedics say he is in a coma, and they're not sure when he'll wake up."_

_ Arthur's chest tightened almost painfully in anxiety._

_ "When do you think… I can see him?"_

_ "Just a moment."_

_ The sandy haired Brit strained to hear the small chaotic sounds from the other end. There were shouts, alarms ringing, and loud clunking sounds everywhere._

_ Officer Beillschmidt picked up the phone and continued to speak._

_ "They're taking him into intensive care for surgery. The paramedics recommend seeing him in a few days."_

The few days Arthur thought the coma would last became agonizing weeks, and those weeks were about to hit a month. A month without Francis by his side, cuddling him, comforting him… loving him like no one else had in such a long time.

Arthur remembered those haunting words the doctor had told him just two days ago when he last visited.

"The longer a person stays in a coma, the more likely it is they won't wake up…"

The Brit heard of horror stories where children a few years of age would slip into the never ending slumber and die forty years later, with their eyes still closed and body unmoving. Francis was strong, though. He would be different.

Right?

It wasn't until several drops of scalding water fell into his lap when Arthur realized he was crying. There was no one around to watch, so he didn't bother wiping his eyes, when the green-eyed man realized the windows were wide open.

It was a fine night, the sky was inky black and the moon rose high above the buildings surrounding the hospital. Arthur couldn't help but stare at the moon for a while, admiring it's almost flawless like surface, and unending glow, like Francis's face when he smiled and laughed that rich, lovely sound he always made. The man suddenly had an urge to do something, something crazy, something that he never would do.

"Hello there, er… Madame?" Arthur started hesitantly. As he realized what he said, the Brit began laughing, more tears falling on his face. God, he really lost it now. He was talking to the moon, for crying out loud! But as the laughing faded away into quiet sobbing, Arthur realized that it was somewhat comforting. So he continued.

"Madame Moon, I really wish Francis would wake up," he whispered, hugging himself tightly. "I miss him so much, and I know that Matthew misses him too, maybe even Alfred. I want to see Francis smile again, and laugh again, and wake me up again, and- and…"

The moon gave no reply as it simply floated in the dark sky of the night.

Arthur almost felt disappointed that the shining, silvery orb above didn't say anything back, but knew it was just the moon. It couldn't hear him, not when it was so many miles away. It couldn't give him comforting advice, or whisper sweet lullabies in his ears to soothe his anxious heart. It was simply a moon after all.

As Arthur turned back to face his unconscious lover, he realized something. He could already feel fresh tears forming in his eyes, and felt them fall on his already tear- sticky cheeks.

Perhaps the doctor was right. Talking to Francis right now while he was in a coma would be useless. Arthur could talk to Francis his most deepest, darkest secrets, but the Frenchman wouldn't be able to hear him. Not when he was so many miles away from reality. He couldn't hug him, or whisper that everything would be okay to soothe his anxious heart.

Because it was like talking to the moon.

Parce que c'etait comme a parle avec la lune.

* * *

**In case no one knows, parce que c'etait comme a parle avec la lune means because it was like talking to the moon... I think... (phail)**


End file.
